


Zayn Shags the Help

by geekgirl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Domestic Boyfriends, Hand Jobs, Louis in a Dress, M/M, Panties, future direction, maid!louis, sorta - Freeform, you could view it as AU if you so wish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekgirl/pseuds/geekgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn and Louis have a fight about hiring a maid. Louis comes up with a plan to show Zayn how mad he is for wanting a maid but things go in the opposite direction. </p><p> </p><p>Or the one in which Louis dresses in a maid costume as a joke but Zayn is a bit too into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zayn Shags the Help

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I wanted a fic with Louis dressed in a maid outfit but I couldn't figure out how to keep it in character until I came up with this. (or the one in which I shamelessly write some of my favorite kinks for my OTP after I saw a drawing of Louis being grumpy in a maid get up) 
> 
> This story takes place in the same future headcanon (about a year before the other) as one of my other stories but can stand alone in reading.

“Where the fuck is he?” Louis said, pacing the elaborate and modern kitchen. He was getting tired of pretending to be cleaning. Louis had been expecting Zayn home nearly two hours ago. He could ring him and demand he bring his arse home, but it wasn’t unusual for Zayn to be gone for hours at a time, brooding and exploring by himself. 

But the lace was itchy and Louis could only be thankful that he hadn’t bought the matching heels. He slumped over the countertop and scrolled through Instagram for what he was sure was the thousandth time. He felt cold air on the back of his bare thighs and wished the ridiculous stockings he was wearing went higher. Not that he wanted to be wearing any of this damn get-up to begin with, but what he especially didn’t care for were the stockings. They wouldn’t stay up over this thick thighs and when Louis was about to abandon them and just wear the rest of the basic maid get up, the costume shop owner insisted that the outfit would look ridiculous without them. 

“Whoever you wear this for will love them,” he had said in his heavy Italian accent. Louis wasn’t sure what the hell that meant, but if it was more likely to get Zayn pissing, he wasn’t about to pass it up. So he bought garters to help them stay in place. 

Louis set his phone down and hiked the dress up to scratch at his itchy legs. He thought how unprofessional of a maid he would be. Damn it, he doesn’t want to be wearing this for a moment longer.  
S  
o, Louis left the kitchen and went up to his and Zayn’s room to change and stuff the ridiculous get-up into a bag and make sure Zayn never figured out that he had spent nearly three hours waiting for him in it. But before he could make it that far, he tripped over an abandoned trainer in the middle of the floor. This. This is what got him in this mess. Zayn, whining and bitching about what a mess Louis was, and if he wasn’t going to pick up after himself then they needed to hire a maid. Louis wasn’t entirely sure why this set him off more than usual, but it did. He made him mad pissing so when Zayn left to wander around Milan, Louis bought the costume. 

It was the most basic one they offered and he still didn’t wear the lace headpiece or the cuffs for his wrists. No—layers of lace, his exposed chest and shoulders, and the stockings would have to be enough to convince Zayn that having a maid was nuts. 

So Louis took his place back in the kitchen next to his prop feather duster and waited. Another fifteen minutes later he found himself wondering if the duster would actually work, even though it was a prop. It was still feathers, right? So he picked it up and ran it over the cabinets. Louis had no idea if they even needed dusting, but he thought they looked damn good once he’d finished them. 

Then he heard the front door opening and a rustling in the entryway. Louis threw the feather duster across the room because he wasn’t planning on actually cleaning. 

“Lou? Is that you?” 

“Fuck,” he whispered. He still needed it as a prop though. He ran to fetch it, layers wisping around him. 

“Hell you doing in there?” 

Louis was just springing up from picking up the duster when Zayn came into view. He began to dust the nearest empty cereal box and—damn that is stupid, isn’t it?

“Oh! Welcome back Master Malik! I was just cleaning, don’t mind me,” Louis cooed in a stupid voice, and damn this idea was brilliant because it was so dumb. Zayn had to see it now. 

And he did. He stood at the very far end of the kitchen staring at Louis, eyes wide, one arm out of his jacket, the other stilled and forgotten. 

“Wh- Lou- What?” he stammered. He was clearly having a hard time processing the scene in front of him, so Louis played it up a bit. 

“Just doing a spot of cleaning! I’m the new maid, you see? The one you couldn’t shut up about this morning?” Louis said, dropping the facade with a spit of anger in the end. To make up for it, Louis picked up the box of cereal and crossed the kitchen, making sure to sway his hips and play with his dress as he went, passing as close to Zayn as he could allow before placing the box into his cupboard. It was nice of Zayn to let him have his own cupboard for his cereal, but they were a little too high. Louis went on tiptoe to put the box away and he felt the rush of cold air on his bare thighs again. Maids can go on tiptoes to put things away, right? That was in character enough. 

Louis turned to see if it was working on Zayn. But what he saw was not exactly what he was expecting. Zayn’s face was flushed and he was staring, eyes wide as he let his jacket slip to the unswept floor. 

“Louis, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“You said you wanted a maid. Mad, innit?” he said, crossing his arms and smirking at his boyfriend. 

“Mad, yes.” He swallowed and Louis watched Zayn run his eyes from his exposed tattoos down to the tied apron around his small waist to the thick thighs partially covered with the garters and lace stockings down to his feet in his ratty Vans. 

“Fucking hot, though,” Zayn finished. 

“Fucking—what?” Louis asked, dropping his arms and staring at Zayn. 

“Hot. Lou, its bloody hot. Isn’t that—Weren’t you trying to?”

“What? No! This was to show you you’re mad for thinking we need a maid.” 

“I think its having the opposite effect,” Zayn said, pulling at the front of his tightening trousers. 

“Damn it, Zayn! This is not an apology, or a bloody reward for this morning!” 

“Well, you do always take things too far, but this—” Zayn started, but tapered off when Louis raised the skirt again to scratch at his legs. What was the point of pretending to look professional when this clearly wasn’t working? Yet, Zayn’s eyes widened again, his face heating up even more. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, crossing the kitchen and clutching at Louis. He pulled him close and kissed him hard. 

This was not what Louis was expecting when he bought the costume, but he has always had a problem with not thinking his plans all the way through. Not to mention, Zayn was kissing him with a fierceness that Louis hadn’t felt in a while. He loved that they could have casual, routine sex whenever they wanted without ceremony, but Louis felt his body heating quickly as well when Zayn bit down on his lower lip, moaning as he let his fingers trace the layer of lace at the top of the outfit. 

“Fuck. _Fuck,_ ” Louis panted as Zayn kissed his stubbled jaw. He ran his face across his, just feeling as he let his hands smooth over his exposed shoulders and upper back. He kissed his throat, sucking at the pulse point as he let his hands feel even farther, sliding down the small frame, stopping to dig into his waist. 

Louis would think he would know what to do with himself after years of being with Zayn, but when Zayn gets so caught up in Louis like this, he loses himself. He can’t fight back anymore. Not when Zayn acted like every piece of Louis was a piece of art he needed to spend time memorizing with his hands and mouth. So Louis just stood there, feeling his heart pound, letting his hands press limply to Zayn’s hips and head fall back, eyes closed. Zayn ran his face slowly across his inked chest, adding kisses every so often. Louis felt his hands at the top of the stockings, tracing them slowly as if the shop owner was correct in the fact that Zayn would love them. He traced slowly up the garters. Louis felt hot breath on his neck as if Zayn had to pull up from his exploring so he could fully take in what his hands were feeling. 

He followed the elastic up to the clips on the panties and Zayn snapped up straight. He ran a flat hand along the edge of the lace before pressing his hand to Louis’ growing hardness. Louis hissed and bit his lip, letting his head fall back further. The feeling of his hand on him was one thing, but he  
could feel traces of Zayn’s skin on his. Not entirely, though—the panties were a fucking tease. 

Zayn unceremoniously lifted Louis’ dress for a proper look. 

“Fuck, Lou. Where’d you get these?” Zayn’s dark eyes took it all in, the way the lace stretched around Louis’ length as he grew more aroused with Zayn’s eyes on him. Zayn moaned slightly and palmed at himself through his jeans, his own arousal growing. 

“Uhh—” Louis wasn’t sure he wanted to admit to not being able to attach the garters to his boxers, as well as his trip to the lingerie store to buy the expensive black lace. He especially didn’t want to admit to the time he’d spent in front of the mirror in them, looking at how the dark looked next to his creamy thighs, hot and indecent in how they left nothing to the imagination. 

“They came with the costume.” 

“These are designer, Louis,” Zayn said knowingly. Louis was going to press, asking how Zayn could possibly know that, but Zayn wrapped his arms around him, hugging tight at his waist, the lace of the skirt bunching up between them as he lifted him from the ground. Louis found himself laughing unsteadily as Zayn groaned from the effort, placing him on the expensive granite counter top. It was cold on his arse, the knickers doing nothing to shield from the touch. 

“Zayn, my ass is on the kitchen counter,” Louis laughed. Zayn just smirked and kissed him. He spent a minute there, hands splayed out on his thighs, fingers moving slowly over the hair and skin there and kissing Louis with all he’s got. Zayn isn’t exactly quiet, but he is better at expressing feeling through touch rather than words. Louis could pick up on the bubbling humor, lust, and cheeky sense of accomplishment in that kiss alone, and he wanted to tell him to knock it off. He had nothing to feel proud over. 

Zayn slid his hands up his thighs slowly until they were on Louis again. One hand explored the feeling of Louis’ hard member under the lace while the other played with the hemline. Louis broke the kiss and let his head fall to Zayn’s shoulder at the feeling. The panties added a whole new feeling of friction as Zayn began to palm him through the lace. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, losing himself even more now that Zayn was giving his aching erection attention. But it didn’t last much longer before Zayn decidedly pulled his hands from beneath the skirt to hold Louis’ face in a brief kiss, then smirking and squatting down low. Louis settled back on his forearms in anticipation, closing his eyes, ready to give in to the feeling of his rapidly firing nerves screaming with need. He hardly recognized the fact that he was smiling as Zayn pressed kisses to his tattoos at his ankles and up his legs through his stockings until he felt the dress being pushed back and hot breath ghosting over his cock. The smile slipped from his face as he bit into his lip, trying to hold himself together. 

Then Zayn was mouthing at him through the panties, lips playing for a second before licking at the lace. Louis slipped farther back on his arms and let out a strangled moan. The hot, wet, knickers slid across his aching cock as Zayn worked at them. He payed every bit of Louis some attention and Louis thought for a second that he must have looked like something else in this outfit to make Zayn want to touch each bit of him like this—slowly, with heavy wanting in every swipe of his tongue, moaning slightly at the taste of him. 

Louis was a mess, panting and cursing up a storm by the time Zayn slid the panties down his thighs and placed his mouth directly on Louis. He took his cock into his mouth with an ease that only years of familiar practice could yield. He sucked gently and held Louis’ thighs firmly to the countertop to keep him still. He bobbed his head, taking Louis up and down in his mouth at his own speed instead of letting Louis fuck his mouth like he usually allowed him to. He pulled off to press more kisses and heated licks to his cock at those moments when Louis seemed as if he could no longer fight the urge to buck up into his mouth. 

“So hot, Lou,” he moaned before taking Louis into his mouth again. 

It was as if this was about Zayn wanting to touch, feel, and taste Louis for his own pleasure rather than to get Louis off. Louis felt himself heat up at the thought, nerves tightening in his gut, and then he was coming without notice into Zayn’s mouth, who began coughing and pulled off.  
Louis collapsed back onto the counter. He would have slipped right off and onto the tile if it wasn’t for Zayn, standing between his legs, hands still on his thighs. 

“Fuck, Lou. A little warning would have been nice." 

Louis tried to laugh but it came out in faint huffs as he panted, room spinning and unrecognizable around him. He barely registered Zayn absentmindedly sliding his hands over him as he watched his boyfriend return to earth. 

Then it hit Louis. He was laying on his counter in a dress, legs hanging over the edge with stockings on, expensive knickers around his sweaty thighs and his bare ass on the counter. He is a grown ass thirty-five year old man in a maid’s dress who just had sex in his kitchen. He sat up and stared straight into Zayn’s impossibly dark eyes. 

“What the hell was that about?” 

“Why you asking me? You’re the one in the dress!” 

“Okay, but that was a bit. You just spent thirty minutes licking me until I came like a teenager. You barely touched yourself once.” 

“You clearly have no idea how you look, do you?” 

“Not in the dress, no.” 

“But you do in the panties,” Zayn snickered. 

Louis thought back to himself turning in front of their mirror, how the dark fabric barely curved across his ass. He was suddenly sad that Zayn hadn’t gotten a proper view from behind. His disappointment quickly vanished as Zayn started pulling him close, kissing the subtle pout from his lips. 

“Fucking hot,” he said again. Louis smirked and pushed him back so he could hop from the counter. He pulled the panties from his legs over his shoes, letting the skirts fall over his bare skin. He marveled at the feeling of the loose lace on his hyper sensitive skin, but he pushed away the intrigue to look at Zayn again, who was watching him close. 

“I’m thinking I need a shower, but first we should take care of this,” Louis said, voice raspier than usual as he placed his hand over Zayn’s bulged, dark jeans. 

Zayn groaned and nodded heavily. 

Louis made quick work of the button, zip, and pants, releasing Zayn’s straining cock. Louis was about to drop to his own knees when he got an idea. He kissed Zayn—who kissed back, despite his obvious impatience in the kiss—so Louis obliged, wrapping the rough lace panties around Zayn’s cock in his hand. Zayn gasped at the new feeling, but Louis breathed in the gasp and started kissing him again. He began stroking him, up and down, with the soiled garment. They were wet in his hand with his own cum, as well as Zayn’s, so they slid along his length easily. It wasn’t long before Zayn’s kisses became nothing more than a hot panting mouth on Louis’. Louis picked up the speed and Zayn came with an exasperated groan, thrusting into the lace Louis gave him a minute to still before kissing him softly and holding up the knickers for him to see. 

“I’m sorry, but I think they’re ruined.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare toss them,” Zayn panted. 

“Well we can’t just leave them here for the maid to take care of,” Louis answered sarcastically. And then Zayn was laughing. 

“You—you—” he laughed, and Louis knew this couldn’t be good. 

“You put that empty box of cereal in the cupboard,” he laughed. Louis wanted to be mad. He wanted to smack Zayn for laughing at him, but he couldn’t. Zayn’s face lit up, creasing happily as he continued laughing, and Louis felt himself smile, too. Alright. It was pretty funny. 

“That box—has been on the counter—for weeks!” Zayn laughed. 

“Alright, Old Man. Don’t hurt yourself,” Louis said, sweeping Zayn’s slightly long, damp hair from his face. 

“I’m younger than you,” Zayn wheezed as he clutched at his side, trying to control himself. 

“Okay, I give in. We’ll call a maid on Monday. But she’s not wearing my dress,” Louis said, holding up fists full of skirt. 

“Oh, shit no. I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye,” Zayn said, suddenly serious. Then it was Louis who was laughing. He bent and slipped his shoes and stockings off before helping Zayn the rest of the way out of his trousers . He pressed all the clothes into Zayn’s arms. 

“Shower? Then you can fix dinner.” 

“It’s your turn,” Zayn said. 

“First you expect me to clean, and now cook?” Louis said playfully. 

“It is your turn." 

“Fine. Cereal it is.” 

Zayn rolled his eyes and took one of the take out menus tacked to their message board. “We’ll order in.” 

“Talk dirty to me,” Louis said before kissing Zayn and heading to upstairs to the bathroom. He loved the loose, airy feeling of the dress, quite honestly. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad investment after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is welcomed! Also, come bother me at my tumblr 
> 
>    
> [wong-direction](http://wong-direction.tumblr.com/)


End file.
